Cassian
The man in the mirror wasn't who he used to be.
Cassian Voss buttoned his cuff with surgical precision, watching his reflection under sterile white light. The room was silent except for the low hum of encrypted servers in the corner. Outside, rain threaded down a wall of reinforced glass like veins on a corpse.
His face looked the same—strong jaw, deep-set gray eyes, that scar across his temple like punctuation on a story never finished. But beneath it, something had changed. Something had twisted.
"Blackwell's moving," a voice crackled from the speaker.
Cassian didn't look away from the mirror.
"Of course he is," he replied. "He always was predictable once you wound him tight enough."
"He visited one of the old relay towers. Reign's network is still alive."
"Let her run," Cassian murmured. "She'll lead us where we need to be. Reign's loyalty only goes as far as her leverage."
He adjusted his collar and moved to the table behind him.
Laid out in precision: a worn manila file marked BLACKWELL, L.
Photos. Medical scans. Surveillance timestamps. And one more:
Elena Rivera.
He picked it up slowly, studying her face. It was an old image—before Ridgepoint. Before Blackwell. But there was something in her expression. Not softness. Steel under skin.
"You made a mistake," he whispered to the photograph. "You made him human."
Cassian slid the photo into his coat pocket.
Then he turned to the screen mounted on the wall. It showed the interior of the Echo-T site—just minutes ago.
Liam, entering like a ghost.
Elena, frozen in the heart of the truth.
Their bodies tense. Eyes full of fear. Trust unraveling in slow motion.
He smiled.
"I don't need to kill him," he said aloud. "I just need to break him."
He turned to his handler on the line.
"Prep the containment team. Let them breathe. Just enough to think they're safe."
A pause.
"And keep the child in the dark. We'll use her when it matters most."
Elena
The box was still open when they left.
She hadn't taken anything with her—not the files, not the photos. She didn't need to. What she'd seen was branded into her memory now, permanent as a scar.
Liam drove in silence.
The air between them felt different now. Not cold. Not angry. But… honest. The way you feel after surviving a lightning strike.
"Elena—" he started.
She shook her head. "Not yet."
They drove until the trees thinned and the lake came into view. Home wasn't far now. But home didn't feel like safety anymore.
When they reached the cabin, Miri was sitting on the porch steps, knees hugged to her chest, sketchpad beside her.
She looked up. "You found her," she said to Liam.
He nodded.
Miri turned to Elena. "You okay?"
Elena nodded, slowly. "We will be."
She didn't say it for reassurance. She said it because she wanted it to be true.
Later that night, after Miri was asleep, Elena stood in the bathroom staring at herself in the mirror.
Liam leaned in the doorway behind her, shirt discarded, towel around his neck. His skin was still damp from the shower, muscles cut and lean, a map of faded scars across his back and ribs.
He looked like a soldier.
But his eyes—when he met hers—looked like a man who had forgotten how to rest.
"You still want me here?" he asked, voice low.
She turned.
"I didn't say I was leaving."
"You should've," he said. "After what you saw."
She stepped toward him. "You think I didn't already know you were dangerous?"
He held her gaze, but didn't move.
"I saw the man you used to be," she said. "But I'm in love with the man you're still becoming."
His breath caught.
"You scare the hell out of me, Liam," she whispered. "Because I know you would burn the world for me. But what if I don't want it burned? What if I want to rebuild it instead?"
His hands touched her face like she might disappear.
"I'll rebuild it with you," he said.
Then he kissed her.
Hard. Desperate. Like apology and hunger wrapped into one.
She melted into him, hands fisting in his shirt, the taste of heat and salt and need tangling between their lips. They moved through the house like they couldn't wait. Like survival had turned into something raw and intimate.
Clothes hit the floor.
Breath became tangled.
In the quiet afterward, Elena curled into him, head on his chest, heartbeat matching his.
"We can't run from this," she said softly. "Cassian knows where to hit."
"I know," Liam replied. "So we hit first."
Cassian (Brief)
Somewhere deep beneath an unnamed facility, Cassian stood in a room with no windows.
The photograph of Liam and Elena lay in front of him now, beside a blueprint of the cabin.
And a small recording device—the kind meant to be hidden in the seams of a child's sketchbook.
He pressed play.
Miri's voice filtered through.
"He was crying last night. I think he had a nightmare. He won't tell me what it was."
Cassian smiled faintly.
"I think it's time I introduced myself to the girl," he said.
"Let's see how long he lasts… once she calls me by name."